


The Imperial Promise

by Cormag_Ravenstaff



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6789619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cormag_Ravenstaff/pseuds/Cormag_Ravenstaff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are all doomed to meet our end by which we live. In the flash of a blade, or a knife in the back, all will fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Hayden

**Part I: Birthrights and Love  
Hayden**

The stink of war reverberated through his body. Like a thick paste, it clung to his insides. Every part of Hayden hated it, and relished it all the same.

"Cecilia, take the reserve forces and flank them from the west," Hayden spoke in a rough timbre. "Show the barbarians no quarter."

"As you wish, father," his green haired daughter said. She cracked the reigns of her horse, ushering it forward and away from the group.

"I wonder how the savages will react to a woman leading our forces against them," Heath mused, leaning on his spear as he gazed at the battlefield next to his father. The rough terrain allowed Hayden and his commanders to watch from the top of an outcropping rock. The spacious boulder served as a viewing and commanding overlook for Hayden's commanders.

"As we are unsure of their culture, it can't be discerned. Taking prisoners would be the proper route to that answer, milord," Gunter said, titling his head to the ground.

Hayden headed off the response that no doubt bubbled at Heath's lips. "Prisoners are unnecessary," the Emperor droned. This mantra he had repeated time and time again through the course of the past few years. A phrase that became a motto for the conquests of Hayden Reinheart.

"But I do not deny they will feel fear," the greying Emperor chuckled. His advisors around him joined in, thankful for humor on the bloody day. "Cecilia is capable of trouncing them. My blood has the lineage of conquerors running through their veins."

Heath stood taller at the words his Emperor spoke. "Father, let me lead a charge against the enemy. Let me show them the might of Lokirian nobility."

"You are a second child," rebuked Hayden, casting a look at Heath. "It is not your place to lead charges on the battlefield. Your sister will one day be Empress, and being recognizable to the army is imperative."

"I can do just as good of—"

"Silence!" crowed Hayden, physically turning toward his son. The Emperor caught himself, and breathed deeply. "Heath, you must stand back and watch. One day, you will lead your sister's armies as general. For now, Cecilia must gain the favor of the people who will one day fight her battles."

The green haired prince snarled, "I _will_ fight." Without waiting for a response from his father, Heath turned one hundred and eighty degrees and marched off.

"Lord Reinheart!" cried Gunter. The old guard was the only man to speak up against Heath's insubordination.

But Heath paid the knight no heed. He leapt onto his wyvern and departed to the battle.

"Let him go," Hayden muttered to Gunter. The knight had made for his horse to pursue the prince. "I will have words with him later."

"Milord," Gunter dropped his pitch an octave. "If that is what you command, then it shall be done. But is it not prudent to keep your son safe?"

"I appreciate your concern." Hayden smiled at his general's worries. "Heath is capable, I will give him that. He is in no danger from the savages. Not enough that I would risk my head of the Emeraldguard for such a trivial task as looking after a competent warrior."

"You honor me, Emperor," the knight thanked, kneeling to the ground.

"But you also wear the black armor of a man who has sworn every oath in service to my family," Hayden continued. "I permit you to go into battle under the task of watching over the bastard. He needs battlefield experience."

Gunter turned his head towards the only man on the rock wearing clothes beneath his station. "As you wish," the black clad soldier uttered.

Stefan, Hayden's bastard son, left the gathering of Lokirians with a half-smirk and not a word. Gunter drew both of his swords and followed the bastard. The two quickly departed without their horses. There existed no need for the mounts as the savages drew ever closer.

Emperor Hayden Reinheart calmly observed his daughter's forces crash into the barbarian army. The footmen of the desert people were broken by the Lokirian cavalry.

"Milord?" queried one of his advisors.

Hayden turned, breaking gaze at his daughter. The interruption carried on. "Would it not be prudent to go out into the battle yourself? With the sword and armor—"

"No, _I_ do not find it prudent," the Emperor responded, holding no ire back. "The sword and armor are not to be wasted on these infidels. They were meant for stronger opponents."

The aide backed down, falling quieter than silent. But Hayden knew the man had a point. As his predecessors had ages past, Hayden had the blessed armor and weapon of the progenitor of the Reinheart lineage. They were a sign of the conquests of Lokirian Emperors. He would have ventured out into the thick of the strife had it not been for one deciding factor.

Hayden Reinheart was old.

What if he failed to meet the expectations with them? The people of Lokiria would only talk about the weak Emperor Reinheart. How he was not fit for rule, or command in battle.

That could not happen. That must not happen.

A wyvern's screech jolted Hayden from his stupor. Heath shot down from the clouds above with a group of dracoknights. Together, they struck against the desert barbarians who had dared encroach upon the Empire's lands.

_Not bad._ The Emperor raised an eyebrow at Heath's skilled assault. None of the dracoknights were brought down, and they killed at least a number equal to theirs.

A gust of wind blew across the rocky plains, carrying with it a conflict not far away. As Hayden's cape tussled with the wind behind him, his eyes lowered to see Gunter and the bastard.

They worked well in tandem, a common quality of master and apprentice. They held a gap between two rocks where savages surged through.

"They would be upon us if not for Sir Gunter," laughed a man behind Hayden. "Our knight is worth dozens of them!"

"They are holding out against quite the onslaught," Hayden observed. "Gunter has once again earned his place."

"What about the bastard?" asked the same nobleman.

The Emperor ignored him and refused to acknowledge his bastard's skill. He continued to watch the desert people's slow demise, allowing battle to serve as a suitable distraction.

[X]

Hayden trudged through the mass of Lokirian soldiers. The armored men stepped aside for their Emperor and his entourage.

Behind him followed his son and daughter, as was right. At their heels marched Gunter and unexpectedly Stefan. The bastard normally never tried his chances at the tip of the spearhead formation. Gunter typically kept him away, as was also right.

"Who were they again?" Stefan whispered in a hushed tone. Though to Hayden's ear, the bastard might as well have shouted it.

"Nabatnans," Gunter supplied, his voice softer than a feather. "Our armies strayed close to their lands in efforts to secure fertile land. They weren't very fond of it."

Emperor Reinheart closed his ears to them, and set his eyes upon the destination. Two heavily armored soldiers held one of the most massive men Hayden had ever seen. The tan colossus was on his feet, putting himself half a foot above the most powerful man in Lokiria.

All the rustle from the subdued Nabatnans and Lokirians dissipated. All eyes watched the leaders of both armies.

"Have you a name, Nabatnan?" Hayden asked, tilting his head up. He grimaced. Must the most powerful man in the world adhere to someone else in such a way?

"I am called Hawkeye," he responded. The barbarian leader lowered his head respectfully.

That gave Hayden a triumphant grin. "As with my previous conquests, I shall offer you the same choices they received. Bend the knee and swear yourselves to the Empire of Lokiria, or I shall destroy you. I have no quarrel with your people, so I am of the forgiving mind. Should you walk away, I give you my word no more of your people shall be harmed."

Hawkeye was silent for an everlasting moment. Then, "You are kind in your terms, Emperor. But the Nabatnans do not bend the knee to anyone."

Emperor Reinheart grit his teeth, "You would place your pride above the safety of your people?"

The hulking Nabatnan's laugh rolled over the soldiers in the vicinity. "Emperor, we bow to none. It is not my pride, nor any of my brothers and sisters. We as Nabatnans hold freedom to the highest regard. Do what you must, but we will not kneel."

Hayden saw red; an anger the Emperor had not experienced for years. In an unconscious effort, his arm outstretched parallel to the ground. Silence dropped over the gathering again.

Beads of light gathered at the Emperor's hand. Each like a firefly, they flew and coalesced in Hayden's hand. An eyeblink later, a regal blade with a tint of green resided in his grip.

Moving the large blade without effort, Hayden pierced Hawkeye's heart. The Emperor let nothing influence his cold expression.

Shouts of protest and agony sprouted in the subdued Nabatnans. The Lokirian soldiers hefted their weapons as a silent threat.

It did nothing, and the unarmed Nabatnans attacked the armored men. The Emperor turned away from the slaughter with his head held high.

Cecilia frowned towards her father, "Was that truly the best option?"

Hayden paid her no heed. He would _not_ be lectured by his own daughter. Not on this.

Heath, in stark contrast, nodded approvingly. It only served to reaffirm the Emperor's opinion of his son. He would make a hard general.

Whether a good one or not was yet to be seen.

"Milord, it is best that we leave this place," Gunter said, being the only one of Hayden's inner circle to approach him after the bloody display. "There are over a thousand Nabatnans who want your life."

"I care not for broken soldiers," Hayden spat. "They are nothing without their head—a still wriggling snake's body. We must plant a boot down on them, and prevent any rapid actions."

"I concur," Gunter nodded. "If we make an example of them, it may hinder furious sentiments from the other Nabatnans."

"Kill them all. Prisoners are unnecessary," Hayden barked. His soldiers sprang to obey and relay the command. Not even a minute later, the screams picked up.

"Now that our little skirmish here is done, it might be best if we return to Grisstal," the captain of the Emeraldguard suggested.

Hayden walked away from the killing circle, the screams fluctuating and dissipating with no rhyme or reason. "It has been a while since Lokiria hasn't an enemy to fight," the Emperor stated, some form of cheer in his voice. "Perhaps it is time for a celebration?"

"A reasonable decision, your highness," Gunter agreed. "I will relay that information to our runners so the city can prepare."

Emperor Reinheart nodded, and Gunter did not leave his side. Narrowing eyes turned to the black armored knight asking a silent question.

"Emperor, I was hoping to speak to you about Stefan," the old knight spoke with carefully chosen words.

All mirth left Hayden Reinheart's eyes as he simply replied, "Sir Gunter, you had better speak with the runners should we want to be well received upon return."

The black clad man bowed deeply. "As you wish, milord."

Hayden grunted in annoyance and began searching for a horse. He'd just won a battle, and all he wanted was to get back to his city.

Stefan could be dealt with at any time.


	2. Stefan I

**Stefan I**

"Don't slouch, boy," Gunter chided. "We may be at the back of the van, but we're still in the public's eye."

"Don't call me 'boy,'" Stefan grunted, but obeyed the knight's advice. The two let their horses slowly carry them into the city.

Trumpets announced the army's return long before Stefan ever entered the city. His place as a bastard was at the back, a position he typically felt lucky to have.

This time, returning triumphant from one of the Emperor's conquests, and riding in the back seemed more like a slap to the face than an honor.

Only once Hayden and Stefan's two oldest siblings entered the city in tandem with their respective guards and retainers did Stefan final enter alongside his single guard: Gunter.

Belated his entry may have been, but it did not dull the splendor in the slightest.

The Imperial Capital, Grisstal. The crowning jewel of the Empire, built from the blood of nearby lands. Two decades ago, the city hadn't the slightest air of regality. Now, the alabaster buildings were a mark of pride.

Citizens lined the streets, cheering at their returning heroes. Stefan smiled as he passed them, mentally preparing for waving in excess. The thought did not quench his grin or thirst for the adoration of the people.

_Do they not know the innocents killed for the pride of the Empire? How each conquest our dear ruler departs on ends in families ripped apart?_

The thought was quashed by a sharp look from Gunter. The ever vigilant knight always paid close attention to his charge.

"For the good of the Empire," Stefan murmured. Reinvigorated, the bastard let a wide smile resume on his face. There was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well be on the winning side.

Their parade was directed through the busiest part of the city: Market Street. A full mile long, the single stretch of road never saw solace from the multitudes of feet on the chalky bricks.

"Quite a turnout," Gunter commented. Stefan hadn't the slightest idea how the old man managed to not boil in his black armor. The half-noble was hot enough in his purple jacket that he only had one arm through his cerulean lightcoat. The other half fluttered in the light ocean breeze.

"How are you not suffering from heat stroke?" gaped Stefan, abandoning his jubilant greetings to the people.

"Years of practice." A tremor passed through the voice of the Emeraldguard.

Stefan smirked in satisfaction at his guardian's discomfort. "You should invest in a lightcoat, Gunter. They're all the rage as the summer heat sets in."

"I am comfortable as I am, Thornwood," Gunter stated, referring to the bastard by his chosen last name.

"But think of this material! The lightest of silks brought from over the seas by the most daring of sailors, still strong enough to turn away an arrow. Perfectly capable, and fashionable, for battle as well," taunted Stefan.

"Do not tempt me so," Gunter grunted, the heat starting to get to him more now.

The voice of Heath calling out his name cut off the teasing reply Stefan had at the ready. The second in line for the Empire's throne had hung back, presumably to speak with his half-brother.

The two shared little in common, except for the mane of hair each sported. Though Heath's was a far darker shade mixed with a streak of white while Stefan's colored far closer to their sister Cecilia's.

"It's good to be back, isn't it?" Heath grinned.

"Grisstal never ceases to amaze," Stefan agreed.

The brothers let their horses carry them at the same pace while Gunter dropped behind.

"You should try speaking with father about riding in the front of the vanguard," Heath suggested. "I think I could convince him to allow you to."

"Perhaps I will," Stefan nodded, smiling at the prospect. "Next campaign, eh?"

Heath laughed, "There'll always be another, won't there?"

"So long as Hayden is Emperor Reinheart, I fear there will always be another battle." Stefan sighed as their part of the group left Market Street.

His older brother nodded wistfully. "If only Hayden would allow Cecilia take the throne. Or even me. Consolidating our power and eliminating our enemies within should be our goal, not expanding our boundaries."

"Lower your voice, this is not the place for such loud talk," the half-noble cautioned. In a softer tone, Stefan continued, "We must obtain as much fertile land if we are to fill the stomachs of our people."

"Surely we have enough of that by now," Heath grumbled. "But I see your point. Might you speak to father about it?"

Stefan frowned. "Our father doesn't heed my counsel. I'm not a Reinheart, and forever he will hold that against me."

The armored man laughed. "Come now, I'm sure that's untrue. He has his most trusted advisor, general and captain watching over you. Pressure from the other nobles probably keeps him from openly caring."

"Huh," Stefan furrowed his eyebrows. "Maybe you're right."

"Think about it, at least?" Heath asked.

"I will," the lightly dressed man assured. "How do you think Guy and Lugh will react to us returning home?"

"I suspect they will be happier to see you than I," Heath said, an edge to his tone. "You always had more time to spend with them."

"You're still their legitimate brother," Stefan said, ignoring his brother's voice. "Blood is blood."

"Blood is all red in the end," Heath shrugged.

The Imperial Bridge came into view as they duo rounded the corner. Heath tightened his grip on the reigns. "I have to go ahead to enter with father. I think he's beginning to think higher of me."

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Stefan chose not to comment, and merely nodded in response. The older of the two spurred his horse forward to the bridge.

"It might be a fair idea for yourself to ride ahead," Gunter advised, his mount speeding up to keep pace with Stefan's.

"Why the sudden patriotism? I do not believe I would be well received if I walked into Castle Grisstal hand-in-hand with my father," Stefan spat out.

Gunter nodded, acknowledging his charge's point. "True enough, but I think there might one certain individual who is interested in your return."

The bastard turned his head to make sure he'd heard the old warrior correctly. A wry smile graced the captain of the Emeraldguard's face. "Go," he said. "I'll be fine back here."

Grinning, Stefan cracked the reigns. His mount whinnied and sped forward. The people that lined the streets (Though far less thickly now) cheered at the display.

The breeze caressed the flowing mane atop his head. All he had left to cross was the lengthy bridge that connected Castle Grisstal to the city proper.

Until a rider stepped in front of him.

Yanking on the reigns as hard as he could, Stefan pulled his horse to an abrupt halt. His sister, Cecilia beckoned him to the side of the Imperial Bridge.

"I was hoping to speak to you, Stefan," she said. The parade continued forward without her. The overeager bastard hadn't realized how far ahead he had ridden.

A small crowd of retainers and guards broke off the group and waited a respectful distance away. Hayden relentlessly continued on, pausing for nothing with Heath at his side.

"This is a rare occurrence, sister," Stefan remarked.

"I apologize for taking you away from whatever pressing matters begged your attention," she said. Cecilia meant it, a sentiment that did not go unnoticed by her half-brother.

"I can spare some time for family," he supplied, relaxing in his saddle.

"This may be the only time for a while where we can speak without father's forbearing gaze down our backs," Cecilia said, lowering her voice an octave. "Tell me, have you noticed anything about father as of late?"

"No," Stefan replied honestly. Gunter told him to feel lucky that the Emperor paid as much attention to him as he did.

His sister sighed. "I fear he may be growing cruel."

"He always has been."

"But that butchery after he killed the Nabatnan leader? That was in excess!" Cecilia exclaimed in a hushed tone. "He usually lets go the ones who surrender."

"I think he was trying to send a message," Stefan mused. "Something to turn other tribes and enemies away from attacking Lokiria."

"Perhaps," the green haired woman said wistfully. "I worry that the road we are on may not be the best for the future of the Empire."

The half-noble shook his head. "You're the heiress. Only you can convince him of anything. Try getting Gunter on your side. Hayden is more apt to listen to his esteemed general and Emeraldguard."

"Indeed," Cecilia brightened. "Thank you, Stefan. I'll let you get back to whatever it was that had you racing down the alabaster bridge."

Stefan snorted. "You'd think it'd get dirty after all the traffic."

"Oh, I suspect it will. The sea and Lokirians will scrub it clean for certain. Pride is something nobles and commoners in Grisstal both understand."

He let Cecilia ride toward the castle ahead of him. Eager or not, it would be unwise to arrive before the heiress to the Empire.

Stefan fixed his eyes on the looming white castle. It had been built on a rock that protruded from the ocean further than all others. According to early Lokirian texts, the ocean didn't used to extend as far as it did now. The water made the castle practically impenetrable. The Imperial Bridge was the only way in—and out.

At long last, the royal entourage arrived through the gates of Castle Grisstal. The bastard took the entrance as his cue to make his way to the gates.

Inside the castle proper, heralds sang out the triumphant return. Every attendant and man trying to get ahead in the world clamored for Hayden's attention. The smarter and more ambitious struck up conversations with Cecilia. And the ones who were either immensely clever, or incredibly stupid, spoke with Heath.

None approached Stefan as he rode through the gates. At most, he received a glance and perhaps a nod of acknowledgement.

That is, until the half-noble had gotten off his horse. One of the stableboys took the mount away in time for the reason of Stefan's hurry to reveal herself.

"Stef!" cried a voice. It was lost to all but the man himself in the surrounding noise.

"Lucia!" grinned the green haired bastard.

The two embraced, holding one another longer than would be proper of friends. No eyes lingered on the bastard and lesser known woman.

None except for Heath's.

"Come on." Lucia grabbed Stefan's wrist, and made her way to the interior of the castle with the bastard in tow.

"Oh, I love it when you're dominating," winked Stefan. The woman's cheeks tinged with a blush, marking a stark contrast between her face and aqua hair.

The two exited the celebrations without a complaint. They were invisible to all eyes.

Just how they liked it.


	3. Stefan II

**Stefan II**

Lucia pulled him into the familiar confines of her room. For a commoner, she had far better quarters than most in her position could ask for.

The two barely shut the door before Lucia pinned Stefan to the wall, kissing him with a ferocity matched only by lions fighting. Stefan clawed at her back, drawing a long purr from Lucia's mouth.

Mere seconds later, the bastard's lightcoat lay on the ground without care. Stefan let himself be forced onto the bed. It creaked after frequent use as the half-noble hit the mattress. The wood bleated another loud squeak as Lucia climbed on top of him.

Her aqua hair hung down in Stefan's face for a moment before Lucia closed the distance and captured his lips once more.

One hand pushed her hair out of _his_ eyes while the other strayed further down on her back. Stefan grinned as Lucia moaned in response. Her hands found their way to his purple jacket, and fumbled with the top clasp.

There was a knock at the door.

Stillness. The pair looked at one another in the eye as they paused mid-kiss. Lucia sprang up to the door and Stefan vaulted over the bed and hid.

The bastard peeked around the edge, taking care to keep his ruffled hair down and out of sight.

"Sir Gunter!" greeted Lucia, a hitch in her voice as she came down from her high.

"Dame Lucia," responded Gunter, a smile on his face. "I was hoping you might know where the boy is?"

"Stef? No, I haven't seen him yet today," the woman in white said.

For working in intelligence, Lucia had the tendency to lie horribly. Stefan smirked from his vantage point at the prospect of teasing material.

Gunter tilted his head to see Stefan's lightcoat on the floor. Then he swiveled to the disgruntled sheets. And finally, he glanced at her distraught hair.

"I see." The captain of the Emeraldguard looked to be restraining himself from saying whatever lingered in his mind. "If you do come across him, let him know Guy and Lugh are curious as to his whereabouts. And the Emperor wishes to see him, though it is not urgent."

"Understood, Sir Gunter," Lucia nodded.

The black knight stepped away from the door and walked down the hall. Lucia quickly closed the door while Stefan crawled back on the bed.

"You're a shit liar," grinned the bastard.

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Quiet. I wasn't ready to lie after what we'd been doing," grumbled the woman.

"I do suppose the moment is ruined now." Stefan sighed. At least they had gotten some time together.

"Stay for a while longer, will you?" Lucia sat down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she around his waist. "Guy and Lugh can be patient."

"I think everyone knows we're courting," Stefan mused. "Except Lugh. He's hopeless with those things."

Lucia laughed. "I'm not too sure about that. He came to ask me rather frequently if I had heard from you. He's at least deduced that we are close."

"He's a good kid. Probably the only Reinheart to still have innocence."

"You've done a lot for him. It's not easy to keep a person sheltered for sixteen years," Lucia soothed, taking his free hand with hers.

"It doesn't help that I get dragged on all these campaigns." Stefan scowled at the thought of the haunting wars he'd known.

"It's sweet that you, he and Guy are close despite six years of you traveling," Lucia said.

Stefan nodded. "Especially with how miffed Guy is that Hayden never takes him along. We're nearly the same age. Ought we not both to be brought along?"

"Only your father knows that answer." Lucia laid down on the bed, and beckoned Stefan to join her.

The green haired man flopped down beside her. "How's the work been?"

"Slow. Though we are getting reports of discontent in the cities further away from Grisstal," Lucia said. "Seems that the people far from the capital don't have as much pride as we do."

Stefan sighed. "Well, that at least isn't either of our beasts to deal with."

"I'd drink to that," Lucia laughed. "That will be Sir Matthew's problem."

"The Emperor won't be pleased though," Stefan observed. "Brutal he may be, he is trying to get land for farming. Good intentions go a long way."

Lucia nodded, and turned on her side. "Tell me, do you think there's any way you could get him to tone down the cruelty? I heard about what he did to the Nabatnans."

"You're the third person to ask me that today." Stefan frowned. "I have no sway over the Emperor. I'm not even allowed to march with him."

She took his hand with her own, and squeezed. "He really should hear your counsel. You're a perspective he doesn't get from his other advisors."

Stefan shrugged. "I just ask Gunter to tell him. Hayden has always listened to his captain of the Emeraldguard."

"He has always relied on Gunter, hasn't he?" mused Lucia. "I suspect moreso as of late due to his failing health."

The bastard sat upright, eyebrows furrowing. "Failing health?"

"Sure. Hayden's been feeling his years recently. Or at least, that's what Matthew tells me." Lucia joined Stefan in sitting up.

"I should go see him." The green haired man shook his head. "As much as spending time with you is enticing, what he has to say could be important."

"Go, I'll be fine," Lucia said. "You don't plan on leaving to go fight another war, do you?"

Her man laughed. "No, not quite."

Stefan rolled off the bed and scooped up his lightcoat. He threw the garment on, leaving one arm out of its sleeve. With a quick twist, he tied the cloth belt at his waist.

Lucia got on her feet. She rested her hands on his shoulders and pecked him on the lips. "Try not to anger the Emperor too much. And extend my greetings to Lugh and Guy."

"I shall." Stefan grinned.

The swordsman gripped the handle on the door. Pausing, he turned around. "I just remembered, there's to be a ball commemorating the end of the war. Would you be interested in attending with me?"

"Need you even ask?" Lucia smiled.

Stefan laughed. "Then you best be prepared. I believe it is tomorrow night!


	4. Lucia I

**Lucia I**

The door closed, and Lucia smiled a soft smile. While neither had as much time together as they wished, it made every moment shared worth that much more.

Walking to the mirror mounted on the wall, Lucia composed herself. She snagged a hairbrush off the desk in the corner, and set to work taming the tangles.

"Ow," muttered Lucia as the brush caught. "Dammit, Stef," she cursed under her breath.

A soft knock grabbed her attention. Her aqua hair grew unruly once more as her head whipped around. Groaning softly, Lucia closed the distance and opened the door.

Heath.

"May I come in?" The son of the Emperor stood clad in the green armor of the Lokirian Army.

"Absolutely, milord." Lucia back aside at once, giving way for Heath to enter. The prince stepped in, shutting the door behind himself.

Heath turned towards the woman. "At ease. No need for ceremony when it is just the two of us. Before I get down to business, was that Stefan I saw leaving this room?"

"Yes," Lucia said, suspecting that lying would achieve nothing.

"Why would he be in your room? We've only just got back from a…" The prince lost the sentence as his eyes bulged. "Are he and you…?"

The woman bowed her head in acknowledgement. Heath's mouth hung open on a hinge, dangerously close to catching any passing insects.

Had it been any other man, Lucia would have laughed. Probably more so than was ladylike.

"You could do better than him," Heath finally spoke.

Lucia dropped her head in what might be perceived as shame. But her eyes, had Heath seen them, told a different story. They sweltered with rage at the prince's audacity. The once calm feminine hands formed fists that threatened to draw blood.

"A thousand apologies, but I do believe that is my decision to make." Those were the wrong words to choose.

Half a breath later, Heath had Lucia pinned up against the wall. He easily overpowered the woman. She had trained in using her vastly inferior strength against opponents, not breaking grips against her neck.

"Watch your tongue, _Lucia_ ," Heath hissed. His grip tightened, forcing a gasp out of her as the vambrace crushed her windpipe. "Do not forget who the predator among those in Grisstal is."

"I promise you, I shall not make such a mistake again," Lucia sputtered. The vambrace left her upper chest.

She had been foolish. It would not happen again.

"Good," came the curt reply. "Do you have what I came for?"

Lucia warily walked over to the small closet on the opposite side of the room. From within, she plucked a small vial.

"While it seldom leaves traces, this is rather slow acting." The brief explanation seemed to suit Heath well enough. He snatched the container from her hand with his gauntlet.

"You're sure it will work?" he asked, fixing the white clad woman with a firm stare.

She met his gaze toe to toe. "That would require milord to tell me who the target was. But, as that remains in discretion, then you will have to act off my assurances."

"Hmph." Heath slipped the vial into a pocket. "Your services are no longer needed for this matter. I advise you to do your best to forget this entire affair."

"As you wish," Lucia curtsied, though the effort was hindered by the lack of practice. When she looked up, Heath opened the door to leave.

"Remember what I said. You can do better." The prince left the room before Lucia could reply. The white clad woman sighed, assuming it to be for the best.

On the upside, her one on one dealings with Heath were at an end. Though the question as to whom the poison would end up with…

Lucia shook her head. She would warn Stefan, and that would be the end of it.

Looking once again in the mirror, the woman fixed her hair. The aqua locks found themselves in a quick ponytail, while the wrinkles in her sleeveless jacket smoothed out with Lucia's hands. Adjusting the high collar, the woman's smirk fell a degree.

How she hated fashion. The climate was far too hot to wear what the public considered alluring and attractive.

A pity work was best with an attractive face and showing cleavage.

The spy grabbed her ornate knife and strapped it to the belt curled around her waist. The weapon served a deterrent more than a threat. Volke played the part of muscle when it came to bloodshed.

Lucia stepped out of the room, ready to play the games of whispers in the streets of Grisstal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying this fic? You can continue reading at chapter 5 here:
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11924588/5/The-Imperial-Promise


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